Page 30 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced (You’ve Got Alien Mail #1)

“I know,” she says more seriously. “You’ve never once tried to limit me or change me. Even when I drive you crazy with my ‘chaotic human tendencies,’ as Vex’ra calls them.”

“Those tendencies have proven... valuable,” I admit. “If occasionally disruptive.”

“Disruptive is my middle name,” she declares proudly. “Actually, it’s Elaine, but that’s way less impressive.”

I file this new information away—another small piece of her past she has shared, another fragment of the complex being who has become the center of my existence.

“Suki Elaine D’Vorr,” I say carefully, testing the full name. “It is acceptable.”

“Gee, thanks,” she laughs, but her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Just acceptable?”

“Perfect,” I amend, drawing her closer. “As are you.”

She rises on her toes, and I bend to meet her halfway, our lips meeting in a kiss that feels both familiar and new.

After three years, I know the taste of her, the way her body fits against mine, the small sounds she makes when pleasure overtakes her.

Yet each time remains a revelation, a moment of connection that transcends the physical.

When we part, she is breathless, her cheeks flushed with color. “You know, for someone who claims to be bad with words, you do okay when it counts.”

“I have had an excellent teacher in emotional expression,” I acknowledge, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Though I doubt I will ever match your eloquence.”

“My eloquence?” She snorts. “You mean my ability to swear in seven different languages when something goes wrong with the hydroponics system?”

“Your ability to speak truth, regardless of convention or consequence,” I correct her. “It is a rare quality, and one I have come to value above all others.”

She studies me for a long moment, her expression softening. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do not say what I do not mean,” I remind her. “It would be inefficient.”

“Heaven forbid we be inefficient,” she teases, but her smile is tender. “So, future husband, what happens now? Do we have to perform some kind of ritual? Exchange blood oaths? Defeat a rival in combat?”

“The formal bonding ceremony is somewhat less dramatic,” I inform her. “Though there is a traditional exchange of crystalline tokens, symbolizing the fusion of separate lives into a unified whole.”

“That sounds... actually kind of nice,” she admits. “As long as I don’t have to wear one of those ceremonial robes. They weigh more than I do.”

“Accommodations can be made for your human physiology,” I assure her, already mentally cataloging the traditional elements that can be modified without losing their significance. “The essence of the ritual is the commitment, not the specific form it takes.”

“Look at you, being all flexible with tradition,” she says proudly. “The old you would have insisted on every obscure detail being followed to the letter.”

“The old me did not understand the value of adaptation,” I acknowledge. “Of seeing beyond the form to the purpose beneath.”

“And the new you?”

I consider her question seriously, aware of its importance. “The new me understands that strength lies not in rigidity, but in knowing when to bend. When to transform. When to allow a variable to redefine the equation.”

Her smile is like the dawn breaking over the asteroid belt—gradual, then suddenly brilliant. “I love you,” she says simply. “All versions of you. The stoic warlord, the reluctant diplomat, the secret snow globe enthusiast. All of you.”

“And I, you,” I reply, the words inadequate to express the depth of what I feel, yet all I have to offer. “All that I am is yours.”

Beyond the viewport, the cosmic alignment reaches its conclusion, the moons beginning their slow separation. The spectacular light show fades gradually, returning the observation deck to its normal illumination. Yet something of the wonder remains, captured in the moment we have shared.

Rusty, who has been discreetly silent during our exchange, now approaches with what appears to be two crystal goblets on its serving tray.

“This unit has prepared a traditional Zaterran bonding toast,” the droid announces. “As is customary for such declarations of intent.”

Suki accepts a goblet, eyeing the shimmering liquid within. “How did you know? We just decided this ourselves.”

“This unit has been calculating the probability of this outcome for approximately two years, seven months, and thirteen days,” Rusty informs her.

“The statistical likelihood reached 99.7% this evening when the First Blade chose the observation deck for dining despite three pending security reports requiring his attention.”

I accept the second goblet, raising an eyebrow at the droid’s presumption. “Your predictive algorithms have improved significantly.”

“This unit has had excellent teachers,” Rusty responds, its lights pulsing in what can only be described as smugness. “Additionally, this unit has been practicing the traditional bonding hymn, should you require musical accompaniment for the occasion.”

“Maybe later, Rusty,” Suki says quickly, clearly remembering the droid’s unique interpretation of Venturian poetry. “Let’s start with the toast.”

I raise my goblet, meeting her gaze over the rim. “To transformation,” I offer. “And to constants amid change.”

“To finding home in the last place I expected,” she counters, her eyes bright with emotion. “And to all the seven-years-from-nows we’ll share.”

We drink together, the crystal liquid warming a path from throat to heart. It tastes of possibility, of futures yet unwritten, of a path we will walk side by side.

As we lower our goblets, I see something shift in her expression—a deepening of the emotion that has been building throughout the evening. The formal words have been spoken, the commitment made, but there is more that needs saying. More that needs showing.

“Rusty,” I say quietly, not taking my eyes from Suki’s face. “You may retire for the evening. We will not require further assistance.”

“Understood, First Blade,” the droid responds, its voice carrying the tactful discretion I remember from my youth. “This unit will ensure your privacy is maintained.” It glides toward the exit, then pauses. “And... congratulations. This unit is... pleased by this development.”

The doors close behind him, leaving us alone under the star-filled dome. The ambient lighting has dimmed to its nighttime cycle, casting everything in soft shadow and starlight.

“So,” Suki says, her voice suddenly quiet. “We’re engaged.”

“We are,” I confirm, setting my goblet aside. “How does it feel?”

She considers this, her head tilted in that way that means she’s thinking seriously about her answer. “Like everything just clicked into place. Like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment without knowing it.” She laughs softly. “Also terrifying. But in a good way.”

I move closer, drawn by the wonder in her voice. “Terrifying?”

“Not you,” she clarifies quickly. “Never you. Just... the enormity of it. Forever is a long time, especially when you’re talking about alien lifespans. You’re going to be stuck with me for a very, very long time.”

“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” I tell her, reaching for her hands. “No one else I would rather be... stuck with.”

Her smile is radiant in the starlight. “Even when I reorganize your filing systems without asking?”

“Especially then,” I confirm, bringing her hands to my lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “My life has been immeasurably improved by your chaos.”

“Controlled chaos,” she corrects with mock indignation. “There’s a difference.”

“Indeed,” I agree, pulling her closer until she’s standing between my knees as I kneel on the cushions. “Your chaos has structure. Purpose. Like everything else about you.”

The playful light in her eyes shifts to something deeper as she realizes our position, the intimacy of the moment settling around us like a cloak. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders, her fingers tracing the crystalline patterns that mark my heritage.

“I love how these glow when you’re... emotional,” she murmurs, her touch featherlight along the ridges. “It’s like watching your heart beat in color.”

The simple observation sends warmth spiraling through me, my markings responding to her touch and her words. “They respond to you,” I admit. “They always have. From the first moment we met, you have been able to read me in ways others cannot.”

“Good,” she says, her voice taking on a husky quality that makes my breath catch. “Because I intend to spend the rest of my life learning all your tells. Every expression, every reaction, every way you show me what you’re feeling.”

Her words are a promise and a challenge, spoken with the same confidence she brings to everything else. I feel something shift in the space between us, the atmosphere charging with possibility.

“And I intend to spend the rest of mine learning what makes you gasp,” I reply, my voice dropping to the rumble that I know affects her. “What makes you tremble. What makes you call my name like a prayer.”

Her breath catches, just as I intended. “Henrok...”

“Yes,” I murmur, my hands settling on her waist. “Like that.”

She laughs, but it’s breathless, affected. “We’re supposed to be having a romantic moment. You know, sweet and tender and—”

“And what?” I interrupt, pulling her down until she’s straddling my lap, the movement placing us at eye level. “What did you expect from your alien warlord fiancé?”

The word ‘fiancé’ seems to surprise her, her eyes widening slightly. “I... I hadn’t thought about it that way. You’re my fiancé now.”

“I am,” I confirm, my hands sliding up her back. “And you are mine. My promised mate. My chosen partner. My future wife.”

Each word is punctuated by a kiss—to her jawline, her temple, the sensitive spot below her ear that never fails to make her shiver. She does so now, her hands fisting in my shirt as I continue my careful exploration.